No More Mr Nice Guy
by lilsherlockian1975
Summary: Molly and Sherlock are both fed up with Molly's blind dates, but for very different reasons. Sherlock decided to rectify a big mistake he's recently made, in the most pleasurable way. *This is my submission for the Smutember celebration (psst, I won my category and the overall contest! Squeee!)*


_There be much smut and little plot. Read at your own risk. I had no beta on this one, please forgive my mistakes._

 _ **WARNING** :Contains light but consensual BDSM. _

_I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~_

* * *

Molly balanced her mobile between her shoulder and ear as she fished out her keys. "...wasn't the problem, Caroline. He was dull as a brick. He made Tom look like a… like a big game hunter." Pause. "What? It's the first thing that came to mind!" Pause. "No! I don't have a thing for big game hunters!" She unlocked her door. "I'm not asking for much, but a decent conversation would be a place to start." Not bothering to turn on a light, she kicked off her shoes as she continued through the flat. "What do you mean? You saw me this morning." She started unbuttoning her trousers. "YES!" she shouted into the phone as she jumped on one foot trying to free a leg. "I had just worked a ten hour shift, for God's sake. I wasn't coming home to change first, not for another lame setup, at least." Kicking the khaki coloured trousers onto the floor, she continued through the flat in near darkness.

When she made it to the kitchen, she turned on a light and decided she'd had enough of the conversation. "Listen, no more. I'm done. The last couple times you or Meena have set me up… you know I'm just gonna be honest, they've all been giant failures and I'm…" She opened her fridge. "Really? A producer at the BBC? I bet _he's_ not boring…" _Caroline's not going to let this go_ , she thought. Shaking her head she slammed the fridge shut, having found the half full bottle of Riesling she was looking for. "No, I'm really done. Just no more setups, please. Thank you though. I have to go. I've been wearing this jumper all day and…" _Sigh_. "Fine, I'll think about it. Love you too. Night Caroline."

* * *

After depositing her mobile on the countertop, she immediately pulled her jumper off then draped it over the back of a chair. "That's better," she said with a sigh. Then just as she pulled down a wine glass from the cabinet…

"Bad date?" a deep male voice came very much out of nowhere.

She screamed, dropped the glass and slammed her knee into the lower cabinet all at the same time.

Sherlock held up his hands in front of him. "Don't move, Molly. Stay exactly where you are. I'll be right back." Then he disappeared from the doorway.

Molly looked down at shattered glass covering her floor then at her bloodied knee. _Bugger, that hurt!_ As though suffering through two hours of the exciting world of paperclip manufacturing wasn't enough, now she had a busted knee.

Sherlock reappeared in the kitchen a few seconds later.

"Where'd you go?" she asked as he approached.

"To get my shoes. The floor is covered in glass thanks to your clumsiness." With no warning whatsoever, he picked her up, turned and sat her on the edge of the kitchen table. "And although I'd do anything for you, Molly, I'd like to avoid walking on broken glass if at all possible."

"Sherlock, what are you doing?"

Ignoring the question, he quickly located one of Molly's many first aid kits (she had one in every room thanks to the fact that a certain consulting detective had a tendency to show up, injured, at all hours of the night or day). He then pulled out a chair and sat down.

"Um, Sherlock?"

He didn't look up, just continued going through the small box. "Yes Molly."

"What are you doing here? I thought you had a case."

"Solved it," he replied as he pulled out a pre-moistened alcohol pad, then started applying it to the small gash.

Molly hissed and he finally looked up. Wrapping one hand around the back of her thigh, he lifted her leg a bit higher and… blew... on the wound.

 _Fuuuuck…_

He never took his eyes off of hers as he blew across her skin for several seconds. "Better?"

Molly could only nod as she sat there in her white button up and ankle socks. Sherlock's hand tightened on the back of her leg while his other hand fished a plaster out of the kit. After a few more seconds and a bit more _blowing_ , he let go of her leg and opened the plaster. She was staring, unblinking, at the man completely mesmerised by his actions when a chuckle brought her out of her stupor.

"Star Wars Molly?" he said with a smirk.

She looked down to see the Millennium Falcon on her knee. "They were on sale."

"Course they were." Once again he was holding her leg, cupping the back of her calf, stroking it with his thumb. "Does it hurt?" he asked.

It did; it was sore. She had hit her knee on that handle more than once, but she'd never had someone actually tend her injury before. "It does, hurt a little… I guess," she managed.

He gave her a sideways smile then lowered his head and kissed her knee. His lips barely grazed the skin just above the plaster, but to Molly it felt like fire and ice at the same time. It was his eyes; he kept them trained on her's the entire time.

"Wh-what was that for?" she asked.

While his hand continued caressing her leg, he said, "To make it better."

"Are you all right?" she inquired, really wanting to ask if he was high, but skirting the subject for the time being. He wasn't showing any signs of intoxication, but he was certainly behaving differently.

"I'm not the injured party."

"It's a scraped knee, Sherlock. I'll most likely live."

"That's good to know. I'd not be happy if I had to do without you, Molly Hooper."

Okay, that was it! "What the hell's going?" she demanded in a voice that, she hoped, left no room for nonsense.

He seemed undeterred. As a matter of fact, he put a hand on her other knee and pushed her legs apart. He then squared himself, positioning his body between her splayed knees. "I should be asking _you_ that question, don't you think?"

Molly sighed. "Listen, I've had a really long day and quite possibly the most boring date in the history of dating. I just wanted a glass of wine and… hold on where's Toby?" she asked, having just realised that her pet was missing. He usually started pestering her as soon as she walked in the door.

"I locked him in the bathroom, _with_ his food, I should add. He was trying to sleep on my head. Your cat has atrocious manners," he explained as he inched his hands up her bare thighs. When his hand reached the edge of her knickers he asked, "These new?"

Her breathing was now heavier and she knew that she was flushed, she could feel her cheeks heating up.

"You know I had date tonight. Why are you here and why are you acting so… nice?"

Sherlock was suddenly on his feet, looming over her, an almost furious look on his gorgeous face. "Nice?!" he growled out. "I thought that was what you wanted, Molly. Why else would you keep going out on these _dates_." He spit the last word out like it was filth.

Gripping her legs he pulled her forward on the table, then lowered his head to hers. "I don't think you really want nice, do you?" he whispered in her ear. "As a matter of fact, I think that's the last thing you want." He leaned back and looked her in the eyes. "Tell me I'm wrong, Molly."

 _Fucking, fuckety, fuck!_ she thought. He was right! But what the hell brought this on? She swallowed. "You're... not wrong," she whispered.

The smug look on his face should have been off-putting, but it only managed to wet her knickers a little more.

"I rarely am," he said with an almost sinister smile then he lowered his head until his lips touched her ear. "Shall we begin?"

"Yes," came out in a shaky whisper.

"Good," he said pulling back letting his eyes drop unapologetically to her body. That's when she felt his knuckles ghost over the gusset of her pants. "What do we have here?"

Molly whimpered as he applied more pressure, stroking through the damp material with a long nimble finger.

"You're already wet, Molly. Nice girls don't get wet at the mere _thought_ of doing naughty things." He kissed her neck softly as he continued to stroke her. His touch decadently soft. Just the right amount of pressure to stoke her fire, but offer no satisfaction whatsoever. Suddenly he stopped, his hand was gone. "Lose the top," he ordered, his tone almost cold, as he moved back.

Molly sat frozen for a moment. She didn't know exactly where he was going with this, but she had an idea.

"Don't make me ask twice, _Miss Hooper_."

The 'Miss Hooper' sent a shiver down her spine. _What bra am I wearing?_ she frantically wondered. _Oh, yes… it's the lacy champagne one. Well, at least there's that_ … She slowly started unbuttoning her blouse while Sherlock just stood in front of her with his hands in his pockets. He almost looked bored. It was maddening. Finally, she was finished and managed to push the shirt off her shoulders, tossing it across a chair.

"Lovely."

She couldn't help but smile.

"Matching bra and knickers? At least _part_ of you was hopeful for that date," he said with a bit of malice in his voice.

"You know that's not true," she growled. _What is his fucking deal?_

"Hmmm."

Molly sat there wondering what she was supposed to do next. Sherlock, on the other hand, seemed to be… making plans? His eyes roaming over her body. He eyed her up from bottom to top and back again. It was unnerving.

"At any point in the evening should you choose to desist our activities simply say: _viscera_. If you happen to find you dislike a certain activity we're engaging in say: _Algor mortis_. Understand?" he asked with a slightly raised eyebrow.

 _Ohhhh, okay. Now I get it_. "Was that a posh way of giving me safe words?"

He moved closer once again, slotting himself between her knees. "Indeed. Does that frighten you?"

 _Not even a little bit._ "No. But what if I'm enjoying a certain activity? No word for that?"

He braced himself on the tabletop, one hand on either side of her hips, and leaned forward until his lips almost touching hers. "Oh, I'll know," he purred. "Trust me."

And that was just it; she _did_ trust him. Whatever game he was playing with her, whatever his plans, she knew she could trust him not to hurt her, at the very least.

"I have an agenda, Molly. We will be going at my pace. If you have a problem with that, let me know now."

 _An agenda?_ "What…"

He placed a finger over her lips. "Yes or no? Will you indulge me? I promise not to hurt you. Well, not in any way you find… unpleasant."

She took his actions and words to mean that she was to ask no more questions. Simply trust him and allow him access. It felt freeing and frightening at the same time. "Yes,"she said, watching Sherlock's face morph into something akin to feral lust.

"In that case…" He ran a single finger across her collarbone and down her chest. "...remove this," he instructed as he came into contact with her bra.

She reached behind her back with less than sure fingers and unhooked the garment. When she started to remove it, he stopped her. Looking down at her breasts he said, "I've always wondered why you hide them. Many women put them on display, the main focal point, as it were. But you keep them hidden." He looked up with a twinkle in his eyes. "Well, _most_ of the time." His eyes traveled back to her breasts. "I'd never really given them much thought before that Christmas party and that dress." Once again his eyes found hers. "But you showed me, didn't you? And John and Gad..."

"Is Gad even a name?" she asked, but Sherlock wasn't paying any attention, his eyes again focused on her chest. She thought back to that evening, one she tried her best to forget, and recalled his reaction. Sherlock was often dismissive and even sometimes cruel, but he had been especially cutting on that occasion and in front of an audience no less. "You said they were…" she started.

He locked her in a fierce gaze. "Do not put words in my mouth. I didn't say they were small. I said you were compensating. You also think you have small lips as evident by the many different types of gloss and lipstick you've tried throughout the years." He traced her lips with his middle finger. "They _are_ delicate, yes… but also soft and so..." he trailed off appearing distracted for a moment, but quickly got back on point. "I once said they looked bigger with the colour you had chosen. I was right, of course, they did look bigger. But I was showing off in front of a prospective flatmate. I'm a shit like that." His grin was somehow full of mischief and remorse at the same time.

Stepping back, putting his hands in his pockets and took on a look of indifference. "All right. You may proceed."

They'd never spoken about that party. His willingness to share- to open up even just a little was something completely new. He was indeed acting strange. The man was a puzzle, that was for certain. As she lowered first one strap then the other, she told herself not to dwell on the enigma that was Sherlock Holmes for a moment and try to enjoy what was happening, though his intense stare was making that difficult.

Finally the flimsy piece of satin and lace fell to her lap and she realised that she'd closed her eyes at the last moment in anticipation of what was to come. The room was eerily quiet, she could hear her own slightly laboured breathing and not much else. It seemed like an eternity before he finally moved.

Both of his hands came up and cupped her breasts at once, causing Molly to breathe in deeply. He pinched her nipples between his forefingers and thumbs and she arched into him.

"Just like that?" he asked softly.

Lowering his head, he nuzzled her neck while he continued to pinch at her peaks. The pressure on her nipples slowly increased until finally she was questioning whether she liked it or not. She was pretty sure she didn't. Suddenly he was pinching them so hard, it took her breath away. But she still couldn't say that it was unpleasant, especially when there was a distinct throb in her clit telling her she very much enjoyed it.

"Yes. That's new, isn't it, Molly? You weren't expecting to like it, were you?"

She felt her eyes start to sting and was afraid she was about to cry when he released his hold. Heaving a great sigh, she felt her pants flood with new fluid.

"I'll get you some clamps. You enjoyed that far too much." His voice was distant; dulled by the blood rushing through her ears.

She felt his breath a moment before his lips made contact with one throbbing nipple and he soothed the tender bud with his tongue. Humming, he drew it into his mouth and Molly thought she was going to come when he started sucking. He switched sides and she felt him touching her damp knickers again, this time with more pressure. She hadn't realised just how badly she needed to come until she heard herself beg him for more.

Releasing her, he looked up and said, "Lie back, arms over your head and don't move them. If you want to come follow my instructions."

Molly hissed as her warm skin came into contact with the tabletop, but the discomfort was forgotten when she looked down and saw that Sherlock had once again seated himself between her thighs.

He ghosted a finger around the edge of her knickers. "I've made some mistakes, Molly, and I intend to rectify them." He hooked his thumbs under the thin straps and pulled the garment off.

 _Mistakes?_ she thought, then she couldn't think anymore because she was completely bare, lying on her kitchen table, with Sherlock Holmes staring down at her sex.

 _So much better than another blind date._

* * *

 _Oh, God… she is perfect. Just utterly perfect like this._

The situation wasn't exactly premeditated. He hadn't planned on seducing Molly when he'd come over for the evening. However his patience was running out. The last several months of watching his pathologist date buffoon after buffoon had finally made him realise that he'd made a huge mistake. _He wanted her. All of her!_

Tonight, when he'd come out of her bedroom to find her in nothing but a button-up top and little ankle socks, he made up his mind. He had to get his point across and he knew just how to do it.

After witnessing her obvious enjoyment of his beating of a corpse years before he felt fairly confident that she'd appreciate him taking control. And it turned out that he was so right. He loved being right!

He lowered his head and just breathed. "Fucking hell, Molly, you smell delicious. And I'm starving." Spreading her wide, he tucked in. When his tongue made contact with her inner lips Molly gasped loudly. He started in low and slow, deliberately staying away from her clit. Slowly working his way higher, he opened his eyes to stare up at her. She was doing very well, her arms were still above her head, half dangling off the table, but her eyes were shut tight. Oh, that wouldn't do…

"Open your eyes, Molly. Watch me eat you," he instructed.

She gasped as she looked down at him. The blissed out look in her eyes made him want to throw all his plans out the window and just bury his cock in her warm snatch. But frankly he was enjoying his meal far too much to stop anytime soon. He nipped his way down until his lips found her opening. Her pussy was leaking like he'd turned on a spigot. When he swirled his tongue around her entrance she let out an urgent grunt. _I know, I'll be right back_ , he thought as he moved even lower to check out her perineum. When he grazed the skin next to her back passage her hips jerked as a squeak came from from above. _Interesting, we'll revisit that later_.

Looking up, he had a lovely view of her body stretched out like a succulent feast. "I think this juicy little pussy wants something. Could you possibly tell me what that is?"

A soft moan escaped from her as she stared down at him. "God Sherlock, you have a filthy mouth!" she said before looking away.

He dipped a finger into her, just barely entering her, and watched sweet fluid trickle out of her and down to her arse. _Oh, this table is going to be ruined._ "You don't seem to mind it, Molly. Now tell me what you want."

"I want to come." There was no hesitation this time. " _Please_."

And that's what he'd been waiting for; a note of desperation in her plea. "Of course, Molly. All you had to do was ask nicely." He dove back in snaking his tongue into her channel and was rewarded with the tight clench of her walls. Feeling her start to constrict around his muscle had him aching and filling his pants with pre-cum. Using his thumb to stimulate her clit, he backed out and took a deep breath. _She's so close._

"Are you ready to come for me, Miss Hooper?"

Molly could only nod and whimper

This time he started with her clit sucking it into his mouth and flicking it gently. Molly's hips jerked and twitched. He could tell she was trying to be still, but it was a losing battle. He dipped his fingers into her tight entrance and danced them against the swollen ring of skin at the deepest part of her vagina until… There! _Why,_ he smugly thought, _do some men find this so difficult?_

" _Unnnnnhhhh!"_

Her channel started to flutter and his fingers were suddenly drenched. He kept his eyes on her the whole time, watching her arch up, those lovely breasts jiggling as her orgasm intensified. Not letting up, he pumped his finger into her as she rode out her climax.

"How was that? Is that what you wanted?" he asked as he eased his fingers out of her then sucked them clean.

"Mmmhmm," she hummed several seconds later.

Sherlock smirked at her inability to form words as he stroked her belly and waited for her to recover. A couple minutes later he brought her back to reality with a firm pat to her thigh. "Come along. I don't have faith that your table will be able to withstand the next leg of our journey."

Molly sat up, looking about half recovered and said, "I hope we're traveling to Fucktown on the Ride Your Dick Express."

He snickered as he picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his narrow waist. Her sex jokes were even worse than her normal ones. " _Now_ who's got a dirty mouth?"

They'd only made it as far as the hallway when she started attacking his neck. She latched onto him like a horny hoover, sucking and nipping at his skin as she ground her bare centre against his erection. He paused their trek and pushed her up against the wall. With his lower body almost completely supporting her, he grabbed her hands and brought them over her head, holding them both easily with one of his. She was still grinding into him (not even a remotely unpleasant experience), but she did manage to pull her teeth out of his neck to look at him.

"What? Why are we stopping?" she asked frantically.

"Because I think I need to remind you who's in charge here."

Her eyes went wide and she bit down on her plump lower lip.

Pulling her lip down away from her teeth he said, "I don't think so, that's my job." Then he covered her mouth with his own. He lightly nipped her lower lip before laving it softly and sucking it into his own mouth. As he nibbled on it he suddenly understood why she did it so often. Molly moaned against him as their tongues met and he let go of her arms so that he could cradle her head. God, she was an amazing kisser. He'd deliberately held off tasting those lips as long as he could. She had the ability to kiss him into a state of oblivion.

As she sucked his tongue into her mouth like it was his dick, he started to wonder if they were going to make it to her bedroom. Then Molly broke the kiss. "Fuck me now! Here!"

Oh, well that was a thought. Though it interfered with some of his plans, the idea of pounding her up against that horrible circa 1980's wallpaper certainly sounded appealing.

He dropped her to the floor and started to reach between them, but Molly beat him to it, ripping open the clasp and tugging down his zip. "Slow down, young lady, or you'll end up over my knee before this night is over."

With one hand stroking him and the other reaching down to pet his balls she said, "Maybe that's where I want to be, Mr. Holmes." She looked up at him with big sweet eyes as he braced himself on the wall and leaned into her ministrations.

Her tiny, yet capable hands were driving him to the brink, he'd completely lost control of the situation, and he couldn't find it in himself to care. Not when she started tugging on his balls and… oh, licking his nipple. When had she unbuttoned his shirt? Molly Hooper seemed to have refined the art of the handjob, she had him bucking into her fist within seconds. "Fuck, Molly! Bed! We need a bed." Suddenly _he_ was the one sounding desperate.

She released him, ducked underneath his arm and started toward the bedroom. Turning back to look at him over her shoulder she said, "Come on then!"

What a view he had as he watched her lovely little bottom disappear through the doorway at the end of the hall. _Right,_ he thought, _bed… naked Molly, sex!_ He shook his head as he followed.

The sight that greeted him as he walked into the room was even better.

Molly was kneeling on the end of bed, her legs spread wide. He just wanted to slide underneath her and let her impale herself on his cock.

"Where do you want me?" she asked in a husky voice.

Sherlock started ripping his clothes off carelessly. Oh, he knew exactly where he wanted her. Once completely nude, he sat on the bed, with his back resting against the headboard. "Get over here."

Crawling to him on all fours, Molly straddled his thighs. "Am I in the right place, sir?"

 _Cheeky_! He reached up and grabbed a handful of hair, pulling hard before bringing her face close to his. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to ride my dick and _not_ come until I tell you to. Think you can handle that?"

"Oh fuck!"

His grip tightened in her hair. "That's not an answer, Miss Hooper."

"Y-yes. I can do it."

"Good," he whispered coldly. "And just so you know, I'm not going to make it easy for you."

Molly whimpered and Sherlock chuckled darkly as he lined himself up with her dripping sex. "All right, Molly. Sit on my cock," he instructed, forcing himself not to smirk at her continued surprise. He loved that his dirty mouth kept her on edge. She certainly wasn't expecting it.

Her breath hitched as she lowered herself slowly onto his shaft and Sherlock gritted his teeth to suppress the moan that threatened. Once he was completely seated within her tight heat, he took hold of her hips, silently warning her not to move. He needed to commit this moment to memory. It was special… it was different.

After taking a deep breath he nodded. "Slowly at first."

She just did just as instructed and slowly started grinding on his lap. Leaning back, placing her hands on his thighs, she pushed her tits out and continued her deliberate dance up and down his dick. He took the opportunity to give her breasts more attention. Plying at her stiff peaks, he pinched and pulled, tormenting her until he noticed how hard she was biting her lip. She was about to draw blood. So he backed off and contented himself kneading the soft mounds.

After several minutes of mind-numbingly slow fucking, Sherlock took her hands off his legs and brought them behind him. "Hold onto to the headboard, Molly. And remember what I said."

He squeezed her buttocks with both hands, kneading them and pulling her cheeks apart. At the first smack of his hand she froze and stared at him wide-eyed. "I didn't say you could stop."

She nodded and started moving once again. And again he brought the flat of his hand down on her arse.

"Fuck!" she whispered.

"That's right, sweet girl. Keep fucking me." The third slap was the hardest so far and Molly hissed as her inner muscles gripped Sherlock like a vice. "Not yet, Miss Hooper," he whispered.

"Please!"

"Soon," he said, then he laid down two more hard smacks and Molly tossed her head back and moaned.

"I can't stop it Sherlock! I'm gonna come!"

"One more, love. You've done so well. After this last one you can do whatever you like."

She took a deep breath and slowed her hips. Sherlock put one hand in her hair and tugged as he gave her her last one.

Molly cried out and instantly started riding him like mad. Incoherent words came from her mouth as her walls fluttered then constricted around his cock, milking him as she rode out her climax. It almost finished him. Her already tight pussy was suddenly a vice grip and it was doing it's best to pull his seed up into her womb.

He managed to hold off though, and flipped her over. He grabbed his dick at the base and held it hard attempting to regain some control. As she twitched and spasmed underneath him, Sherlock latched onto her neck just to have something to concentrate on other than her flooding cunt (which was pulling out all the stops to completely undo him!).

After a couple of minutes she seemed to have calmed down. "You ready for more," he asked.

She could only nod as he started pumping into her swollen sex. Knowing she'd be much more sensitive after that last orgasm, he kept his thrusts short and shallow. It would take a while to make her come again, but he could get her there if he focused.

He smiled as an idea bloomed. "Did you like that, Molly? I bet you've got my handprints all over your lovely bottom."

She didn't respond, still in another world. Her eyelids drooped shut.

He closed his mouth around a nipple and bit down slightly. "Shit!" she shouted and bucked her hips. That got her attention.

"You've been such a good girl tonight," he said as he switched sides. After he'd had his fill of her breasts he nipped his way across her clavicle leaving little teeth marks in her skin. "God Molly, you're soaking the bed," he whispered into her ear. "Not very nice, this is my side after all. Maybe your pussy needs a spanking too." He ended his threat with a hard thrust.

"Uhhhhh!"

He picked his pace, but only slightly. "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you? You want me to spank your greedy little cunt?"

"Close!" She'd opened her eyes, a look of desperation on her face as she gripped his biceps hard enough to leave marks.

"Of course you are. You need my dick, Molly. Don't forget who makes you feel like this. Don't forget who you belong to." Then he started pumping in earnest. Pinning her hands to either side of her head he drove into her over and over again. "This is my pussy! Mine!"

"Fuck Sherlock!"

"Whose pussy is this?" he growled.

"Yours… only… yours," she answered in between shallow breaths.

Her eyes had drifted shut again. "Open your fucking eyes and look at me Molly! Watch me when I'm fucking you!"

Her eyes snapped opened and he realised that she was confused by his aggression. She, of course, didn't know. _Shit! I should have told her first,_ he thought. But that would have to wait because he felt his balls begin to rise, there was no more fighting it. "Come for me, my love. I need to feel it. I need to feel you!" He was nearly pleading.

A tear escaped from Molly's eye as he felt her start to constrict around him once again. "I'm yours, Sherlock. All yours," she whimpered. "Always."

And that did it. His control snapped and he slammed into her once more as his bollocks emptied themselves into her belly. Molly bucked and shouted his name as she came once again.

Sherlock collapsed on top of her. He distantly knew he should probably move, but he simply didn't have the energy. The feeling of Molly's arms holding him firmly to her chest convinced him that his weight wasn't a burden, so he remained.

He wasn't sure how long they laid like that, but he realised he'd have to move eventually. Rolling off her he heaved a huge sigh. He'd never felt so satisfied in his life. Was it the sex or finally telling Molly how he felt? He couldn't decide. The bed moved and he watched as Molly got up and walked gingerly out of the room.

She returned several minutes later with a glass of water and handed it to him. Sitting on the edge of the bed next to him she watched him drink then she spoke. "So, I'm I to take it that this isn't just sex anymore? Is that what this whole evening was about?"

After draining the rest of the glass he handed it back to her and she set it on the bedside table. "Yes." He didn't elaborate. The talking bit, God he hated it.

"O-kay. But what does that mean, Sherlock? I really don't think I'm being needy here, I just want to know what's going on in that head of yours."

He should have known that this was unavoidable. Taking a deep breath he thought carefully before he spoke. "Right. So, when we started sleeping together I assumed that would be enough for me. And the release was… well, it has certainly helped keep me focused." He paused, collecting himself. "It was arrogant of me to assume I'd feel no kind of attachment towards you. Still, I thought I could keep this separate from… everything else, I suppose. But then seeing you go out on dates and not really being able to say anything…"

"You _told_ me to date! You made it perfectly clear, Sherlock. You said…"

"I know what I said, Molly. But I was... wrong," he mumbled.

She leaned in closer to him. "Sorry, what was that last bit?"

He huffed. "You heard me. Stop being difficult."

"Budge," she said as she pulled the duvet from the end of the bed. After settling in next to him, her head on his chest, she giggled as she wrapped an arm around him. "So, we're dating then?"

With a roll of his eyes he replied, "If you must call it dating, fine, we're dating. Though I'd prefer if you'd move into Baker Street and call yourself Mrs. Holmes."

Molly popped up and was suddenly facing him with wide eyes. "Are you serious?"

"Of course I'm serious, Molly. That would be a horrible thing to lie about. I learned that lesson the hard way."

She smacked his chest. "Don't bring that up when I'm considering marrying you."

"Considering?"

Cutting her eyes away for a second she said, "Yes, I'm considering it. You'll have my answer in the morning."

He pulled her down and kissed her slowly. "You'll say yes," he said when he finished the kiss.

"Will there be more spanking in this marriage?"

"That could be arranged," he said before pulling her on top of him.

"What if I was interested in being the spanker from time to time rather than the spankee?"

He chuckled. "Oh, Molly. You really are the perfect woman, did you know that?"

* * *

 _Well... that was a bit naughty. Let me know what you think. I'd love to know. ~Lil~_


End file.
